


Gift

by Aroihkin



Series: Veilfire Bones [9]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aroihkin/pseuds/Aroihkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan is pretty awful at showing affection. Trying to remedy that, she secretly makes Solas a gift. He likes wolves, right? And elven lore?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: [here](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13275.html?thread=50926043#t50926043).

Alleyana... lurked. Skulked. _Crept_ about, moody and reclusive. It put everyone on edge, which only made her disposition sour further. She rarely left her room, save for the odd trip out for odder items. A few bricks, a stray tool, that block of heavy damp _something_ wrapped in cloth. A few times, others caught her glancing into the rotunda, but not at Solas, no... her focus was on the walls he'd painted. Always, she'd leave before the mage had a chance to even call after her. She'd stride back to her room, before she lost the image she'd snatched out of the air.

This went on for several days. Strange and secretive, Alleyana worked as though she performed some forbidden, dark ritual. Only Cole seemed to be at ease with the development, which in itself helped the others to... varying degrees. If something awful was afoot, the spirit -- the only one who could slip past her door like a wisp of air -- would know about it.

He was in there now, in fact, sitting perched on the edge of Alleyana's desk, one dangling ankle crossed over the other. "You should give him more eyes," he said, "he'd like that."

Crumbling balls of dried clay the size of a fist littered the room. The only fresh and damp clay left from the Inquisitor's latest block sat before her on her desk, small and frail, like a bird. Alleyana didn't look up. "Yeah?" she asked instead, trying to steady her fingers. They were clumsy around the small wire tool, even after wrapping the handle in layers of fabric for her grip. That had eased the tremors, but it had also removed precision. She couldn't... fucking... win. "How many?"

"Three," Cole hopped down from the desk, brushing dried clay dust off his clothing. Alley had already told him to be careful not to leave any on him, lest he tip someone off, so he was careful. "...Six. Three on each side. So he can see the waking world and the Fade at the same time."

"Fen'Harel cares about seeing the Fade?" Alleyana asked, prodding at the head of the crude wolf she'd managed to form, indenting the requested number of eyes. It looked... weird. Weirder, anyway.

Cole finished dusting himself off. "Solas does."

Since the gift was _for_ Solas, Alleyana nodded. It made sense to put some of what Solas liked into the design. It wasn't like the statues of Fen'Harel were particularly consistent, after all. The Dalish couldn't even agree on the color of his fur; what was some extra eyes, on a personal gift? "Maybe he'll like it a little more."

"He'll like it anyway," the spirit stated. "Because you made it."

Alleyana sat back for a moment to gaze at her hard work. The muzzle was too sharp; crooked; the tail wasn't poofy enough, and one leg was much too wide. Once upon a time, she'd have been able to craft this shape with ease, but that had been before the humans had taken a brick to her hands. It wasn't that complicated a shape; a sitting, howling wolf with its head thrown back, just like in Solas' murals. Those painted, howling wolves were the main reason she'd decided on this specific wolf to sculpt. Although there _was_ more to the choice beyond the murals Solas had painted.

Frustrated, she dropped the wire tool and reached forward to ball the wolf up like all the previous attempts. But Cole surprised her, moving to her side and cupping his hands around the tiny sculpture before she could touch it. "Don't hurt this one," the spirit pleaded, "I _like_ it. He will, too. It wants you to finish it."

"...Alright," Alleyana sighed, and went back to work after Cole moved his hands out of the way. Maybe she could salvage it...

\- - - - -

Solas was standing hunched over his desk when Alley slipped into the large, circular room a few days later. His posture was tense, and there was a darkness to the skin beneath his eyes; he hadn't been sleeping much. That was abnormal, to say the least, and the warrior paused to observe him for a moment, silent.

His bottom lip looked chewed on; the skin dry and peeling where he'd worn at it. The mage had smudged ink on his fingertips, but no paint. There was the faintest wobble to his left elbow as he stood with his arms bracing himself up over his books.

Alleyana tore her gaze away, feeling sudden remorse. Had she been worrying him, or was something else weighing on the scholar's keen mind? She approached with caution, one armored hand behind her back to hide the finished statuette, still warm from the kiln. "Solas?"

He jumped at the sound of her ruined voice, that trembling left elbow almost buckling. Solas straightened up immediately and turned to face her, his eyes wide for a second before he seemed to catch himself. His usual demeanor returned, dropping into place, although there was plenty it couldn't hide.

Like everything she'd already noticed when his guard was down.

"Inquisitor," his voice was soft, "are you... well?"

The hesitation in his voice made her glance away again, frowning. Had she caused this much concern? "As well as ever," Alleyana found herself having to be careful not to squeeze around the clay figure clasped behind her back. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

"Is the Anchor causing you more pain?" Solas stopped trying to hide his dismay, starting forward to meet her. It was obvious that he intended to take a look at the hand hidden behind her back. Alleyana raised her free hand to stop him, armored fingers splayed to keep the pointed tips from catching on the soft wool of his shirt.

"It's not the Anchor, I... _Creators_ , I'm shit at this. Just sit down," she gave him a slight push, nodding at the chair at his desk. "Please, Solas."

Although perplexed, Solas did as she asked, backing away and lowering himself into the chair at his desk. He never looked away from her. Alleyana followed, and stopped when she was beside him, Solas craning his neck to watch her, intent. "Close your eyes," the warrior said, after considering how to do this.

He opened his mouth, the question plain in his eyes, but then he closed shut his mouth in silence, and then his eyes as well. Alleyana gazed down at Solas for a moment, and then reached past him to make a small stack out of some of the books on his desk. She slipped feathers from the birds high above into the pages as markers before closing each. Once the platform was high enough for her intentions, she set the little wolf statuette on top.

"Okay," Alleyana cleared her throat, wanting to snatch up the statuette and flee. Her voice grew even more hoarse than usual with her tension. "You can look."

Solas opened his eyes. He looked first up at her, and then followed her glance over and down to the stack of books in front of him, and the little statuette on top. She'd turned it so its profile roughly matched the howling silhouette on wall behind it, across the room.

"This..." Solas sounded stunned, in his own quiet way, and he reached up to pick up the small statuette. "What is this?"

"Fen'Harel," Alleyana's nerves only worsened when Solas' gaze snapped back up to her again. The mage looking haunted. Her armored fingers tapped a hard, sharp, nervous pattern against her thighs.

"Yes, but... you made this?" Solas asked, looking again at the statue in his hands. Alleyana thought she detected a slight tremble in his fingers, but she wasn't sure through her own nerves.

"I did," Alleyana confirmed, and then amended, "...well, I mean, I tried. It's not..." she realized she was talking more than she should, anxiety spewing the words out through her ruined throat. "...My hands, you know. They aren't any good anymore except in a fight. But I... tried."

Solas examined the statuette, and Alleyana watched him trace over the figure with his fingertips. He lingered over the extra eyes Cole had suggested. She'd glazed the entire thing in a neutral grey, between firings in the kiln, giving it an almost stone appearance. "Why?" the mage asked, next.

"Well," Alleyana stepped away, folding her arms. "A couple reasons. You paint a lot of wolves. Also, I thought you'd get along with him. You said before that the Dalish clans you'd met before turned you away when you tried to tell them about what you found in the Fade. Well, we always set him up at the furthest edges of camp, facing away. If we weren't afraid of offending one of the pantheon, I bet we'd remove the statues completely. Seems like you've got some common ground."

As she spoke, Alleyana watched Solas curl his fingers around the little statue, his gaze shifting back to her again. He didn't look offended, at least. "So you made a statue of him... for me?"

Alleyana nodded, still tempted to flee the room. But her mouth opened, and more words rasped their way out instead. "None of the clans can seem to decide whether to depict him with black fur or white, so I made him grey. And the eyes were Cole's suggestion. Something about seeing the Fade and the real world at the same time. I figured since he was a gift for you, that was fitting."

Solas was smiling, Alley realized, and that let her put a halt to her nervous babbling. The mage rose from his chair and approached, stepping quite close and then leaning down to press a brief kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, vhenan," he sounded relieved, "I do not keep much in the way of possessions, but I will keep this."

"So you like it, then?" Alleyana asked without looking up at his face, just staring at his jaw. He fixed that soon enough with a hand taking her chin and lifting it.

"Of course," he smiled down at her, "though I must admit some curiosity lingers at your subject matter. Were you not taught to hate the Dread Wolf?"

"Of course I was," Alleyana scoffed, and turned away when he released her chin. She strode a bit away and gesturing with her arms, unfolded. "He's the great betrayer, a trickster who hates the elves, and thus the Dalish, and he'd rip any clan apart if given the chance. That's what they teach."

"You... are not in agreement?" Solas voice was... odd, and Alley glanced back at him over her shoulder. He was looking down at the statue in his hand again, expression pensive.

"That's the thing about everything the Dalish taught me, Solas, I don't know." The warrior looked up at his paintings again. "Maybe it's because I was older before I joined them. Or maybe it's because I was already a criminal myself, a thug and a murderer, before the Dalish ever set eyes on me."

She'd told him about Nelaros, her butchery of the Arl's guard and the Arl himself. And she'd talked about her past work with the seedier aspect of Denerim. Alleyana had made a good lookout because she had a knack for details and observation. Although never of any rank among those she worked for, she'd been more than mere muscle.

"In all things," Solas' voice brought her out of her thoughts, and Alleyana turned to look at him again. "You have a unique and nuanced viewpoint. To you," he smiled a little at her, and lifted the figurine for her, "nothing is ever black or white."

Alleyana nodded at that. "Yeah, I guess that's it. He's grey. Everything's grey. The stories about the guy are pretty hard, but everything we've seen of the stories the Dalish spin... not much adds up. Maybe they're wrong about him, maybe they're only half-right, or maybe every word is true. But either way, there's no way that's _all_ there is to the story. None of them go into the 'why'."

Solas inclined his head, listening.

"Even Corypheus has more to him than 'just wants to be a god'." Alleyana continued, aware she was putting more words together in this conversation than her norm. But that was, in itself, becoming the norm with Solas involved. He never made her feel stupid, or brutish. "He saw the golden city, that's the catalyst. He went there _for_ his Gods, and he claims it was already black, but who knows? Either way, he wants to get back there. Mix that in with how he wants to spit in the eye of the old Tevinter gods who sent him there, and of _course_ he wants to take the place as his own. He's a lunatic, but he has motives other than 'just because'."

"And so you think that if Fen'Harel did do everything in the stories," Solas mused aloud, "there is more to it than him 'hugging himself and giggling madly in glee'."

"Has to be," Alleyana shrugged, and then snorted, "we'll see if I ever get to ask him." Solas shot her an inquisitive look, and Alleyana raised an eyebrow. "What? Every story says he all but _lives_ to mess with elves and with the clans. If he's still alive and roaming Thedas. If he's not, for example, locked up with his fellow Gods -- and wouldn't that be a twist -- then he's bound to show up. The Dalish teach us to avoid his notice, never let him catch your scent or hear your steps. Hide, and pray. Well, I'm an elf, I'm Dalish. And this," the warrior raised her arms, gesturing around at the whole of Skyhold. "This is the biggest, brightest, most obnoxious 'come hit me' target I've _ever_ had painted on my back. And believe me, I've had a few."

"I suppose you are rather conspicuous." Solas agreed, looking at the figure again, "perhaps you will have that chance, one day."

"Yeah, maybe," Alleyana dropped her arms, "I just hope I don't have to fight him. One would-be God is enough; if I survive that, I _definitely_ don't want to follow it up with the real thing."

"Agreed," Solas set the little figure back onto his desk. He gave the stack of closed books with protruding raven feathers a glance, and then turned away from it.

Alleyana let him take her armored hand in his and lead her to the sofa. They sat together, and talked, and the topic didn't stray back to Fen'Harel for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Solas thought he was _buuuusted!_ But nope, Alley's just that awkward about displaying affection for someone.


End file.
